By: Darwin Del Fabro

What is self-discovery? It is the act of peeling back the layers of who we are, exploring the truth of ourselves beneath the expectations of society, the weight of our experiences, and the whispers of our doubts. What does it mean to truly find yourself? It is less about uncovering something hidden and more about continuously shaping and embracing the person you’ve always been.

To be confident in your body and your mind, in the presence of those around you, is one of life’s profound challenges. It is to stand in the world, learning to take up space, and to trust the person you are becoming. Confidence is not a gift granted overnight—it is built gradually, through vulnerability, courage, and self-acceptance.

To be human is to feel. It is to carry empathy in your heart, to understand and connect with the lives of others. It is to recognize that we are all kaleidoscopes of color—complex, vibrant, and ever-shifting. Some days those colors dim, and we may feel distant from ourselves, moving through life without truly experiencing it. I have felt that way, too.

My therapist once told me I lived with a form of chronic depression that had settled so deeply into my life that I didn’t immediately recognize it. For years, I navigated the world as an introverted, shy soul, internalizing my emotions. But I found a home for all of it in art. Art became my refuge. Through it, I discovered languages, cultures, and empathy—bridges to connect with the world and, more importantly, myself.

Even now, as I write this, I am learning. Self-discovery is not a destination; it is an ongoing process. Growth, like my own name, is constant. For a long time, I saw my life as a straight line—a progression forward. But now, I view it as something far more nuanced, far more intricate. Life is a spiral, bringing us back to moments, emotions, and lessons we once thought we had left behind but now understand differently.

After 28 years of searching, of tucking away pieces of myself in corners where I thought they were safe, I have finally found a sense of alignment between my body and mind. I am becoming the person I always wanted to be. This is not a new beginning, though—it is a continuation. Those 28 years, filled with courage, pain, and joy, are not erased. They are not something to deny. They form the foundation of the person I am today.

Opening this new door doesn’t mean leaving the past behind. It means acknowledging it, carrying it with me, and allowing it to shape how I move forward. The world feels different now—its contours, its light, its sounds. Everything shifts when you are more at ease in your body, in your skin. The words, “I am strong. I am courageous. I can do this,” no longer feel like affirmations spoken out of need—they are quiet, intrinsic truths.

It reminds me of a rehearsal space—a place I’ve always cherished more than opening nights or even live performances. In rehearsals, you are experimenting, you are exploring, and you are making mistakes in a way that feels freeing. There is no pressure to get everything right, only the joy of discovery. The hope is to carry that same sense of freedom into the performance once the show is open. But some things simply are what they are. Even though theater has its own life—where each day is different—there is something magical about those first steps in rehearsal.

Every day has been different for me too. Now, as I continue discovering more about the woman I am, new joys and challenges arise. But like every single first day of rehearsal, I already have everything I need. I am prepared. I am ready. Ready for opening night, even though the rehearsal process never truly ends.

And now, I am ready for the audience. I hope you see the truth in me—not just a polished performance, but the essence of what it means to be honest. What it means to live a life fully in alignment with who I am.

Because, ultimately, life itself is a rehearsal space—an ever-evolving process of discovery and exploration. Some moments feel like polished performances, while others remain raw and uncertain. And yet, it’s all part of the same journey, shaping who we are. I am here, on this stage of life, embracing every line, every movement, and every color. I hope you see me. I hope you feel it too.

Disclaimer: This article is a personal reflection on self-discovery and personal growth. It is not intended to provide medical, psychological, or therapeutic advice. If you are experiencing mental health concerns, please seek support from a licensed professional. Individual experiences with self-discovery and confidence may vary.

Published by Liz S